The Lost Stories of Holmes and Watson
by Doctor Who's Lost Companion
Summary: A collection of short stories between London's most interesting partnership of Detective Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.
1. New Style

The Lost Stories of Holmes and Watson

New Style

Sitting in his chair, he stared at the name in front of him wondering whether this person was significant or not.

_Benedict Cumberbatch? __Who is that? _

_ –SH_

_ I think it's an actor Sherlock. _

_ –JW_

_ I must look him up online… Hmmm his eye color changes, but why? I must admit he looks... healthy for his age? Come have a look John. _

_ –SH_

John entered the living room, finding Sherlock at the desk, staring intensely at the screen, engrossed in the analysis of the man standing on the red carpet or a different shot of the actor featured in some spy thriller.

"He looks quite a bit like you, except for the hair", John remarks.

"Does he? Is that a...good thing?"

"I suppose so. He is quite good looking", unable to catch his words as they escape his mouth before filtering them in his mind.

"Well" –cough- "I guess…" Sherlock answers, clearing his throat.

"What?"

"No, nothing I don't know..." trailing off as his thoughts began to wander again.

"You know, maybe you should try the ginger thing, if it works for this guy, maybe it'll work on you", John says carefully.

Scoffing, "Maybe as a disguise? What you have something for gingers John?" questions a smirking Sherlock.

"I might have..." mumbling with a blush.

"Alright then, come on I might need your help!" Standing suddenly, strolling away to the bathroom, turning to John to get him to follow.

"When I went into hiding for the three years I dyed my hair a couple of different colours for disguise. But never made it to ginger yet, I still got the box" Sherlock finishes, seizing his quick strides turning to John.

John raises his eyebrows a bit, while attempting to picture growing anything other than his dark, curly top.

"Really? "

"Sure, why not", answering in a smile.

"Okay then." Continuing with his blushing Sherlock shouts a "Geronimo!" sprinting the rest of the way to the bathroom. Inside, Sherlock quickly finds the box of dye in medicine cabinet as he hears John laughing behind him. Unbuttoning his top, Sherlock lazily tosses it aside just as John joins him inside, to which he lets out a hidden gasp, going unnoticed by Sherlock. On his knees, Sherlock turns on the hose, being sure to his head was properly wet and soaked.

"So John what's it say to do?"

For a moment John's eyes linger at his back, but Sherlock's voice pulls him back to reality as he opens the box and pulls out the bottles. Reading the instructions carefully.

"Well first we need to mix the parts together and then I guess you just put it in your hair, making sure to get it all covered."

"You know, I think we should trim my hair short too, I do not want to look like that American Carrot Top or something", still running his hands through the massive tangle beginning to develop.

"Let's dye it first and then think about you getting a haircut. One thing at a time", mused John, hiding his giggle imagining Sherlock's massive red hair, almost similar to that of a circus clown

"What ever is easiest", sighed Sherlock as he shut off the faucet, as the once tamed curls submitted to the weight of water. Sitting on the side of the tub water from his ends began to drip over him, causing John to take a deep gulp quickly darting his eyes to the dye box instructions, looking for a distraction.

"Scissors in the draw", pointed Sherlock.

"You want me to cut it?"

"Yes why not? You are here aren't you? Logically, being a soldier having to keep your hair short, surely you know what to do." Smirk.

"Okay I guess I can do that... Let's get it coloured first though." An unease John picked up the two bottles, pouring one into the other and shaking it to mix it up.

"Ready and get it right okay? I trust you on this" Sherlock asked quickly tilting his head down. John pulled on the gloves that came in the kit and began pouring the dye onto Sherlock's hair, massaging it in and making sure that all his hair was coated in the dye.

"Okay, I think it's all good. Now you just need to wait half an hour for it to work."

"Phone please. Bored" demanded the child. 'Note to self, scalp massages from John are relaxing, helps improve cognitive activity' thought Sherlock. Pulling off the gloves, tossing them into the bin, John walked off to the sitting room grumbling to himself.

"Boooooored! Jawwwwwn!"

Rolling his eyes, John spotted the phone near the laptop, huffing back a minute later so as to keep Sherlock quiet.

"Sherlock you asked for this, if you're bored it's your own fault."

"Thank you." Flashing him an innocent smile, "Now please get me some tea, greatly appreciate it."

"I'm only doing this because I don't want you to get dye all over the flat."

"Excellent."

Phone in hand, Sherlock browses over some news articles, murder here, kidnapping there. Nothing interesting.

_Tea yet? –SH._

An imaginary yell enters into the bathroom.

_J__esus Sherlock, I'm only in the other room you don't need to text me. –JW_

"Thought you were used to this by now" Sherlock yelled.

_T__hat doesn't mean it isn't annoying! –JW_

"Then why you still texting me John?"

"I don't know. I guess it's just habit" John answered back loudly.

"Ha-ha, I deduce water should be boiled soon, another 15 minutes to go on dye too maybe."

Not long later John returned to the bathroom carrying two cups of tea and handed one over to Sherlock then proceeding to lean against the wall drinking his.

"Thank you. Oh! So you are joining me thank you."

"I've only been gone 5 minutes" John answered dryly.

"Have you...interesting", trailing off.

"What's interesting about that?"

"No nothing, just thinking", as Sherlock's eyes darted between John and his Mind Palace.

"Okaaayyy..."

Sherlock sips his tea thoughtfully, 'John seemed very enthusiastic about my outward appearance...I will have to investigate this further'. A silence continues for another few minutes, each lost in their own little worlds. Peering into his empty cup, Sherlock asked:

"How much more time John, don't have my watch."

"Just a couple more minutes, although maybe you should leave it on a bit longer since your hair is so dark."

"Fine." More quiet, each waiting for the other to speak. Sherlock is first.

"So, John. You never told me of any of your new relationships while I was away? How many were there this time?"

John looked at Sherlock awkwardly.

"Um... none…"

"O? I am surprised because for awhile there seemed to be a girl every other week" Sherlock stated slowly raising an eyebrow in interest.

"I just gave up I guess."

"Well that's discouraging."

"How so?" Watching John's expression, Sherlock attempts to find the reason while his eyes drift to the ceiling.

"I was hoping someone would distract you. Keep you away from visiting my grave all the time; it was depressing to watch, John."

"I felt depressed. I guess I just thought no one would want someone who was broken, so I just didn't try."

Moving his eyes back to John, quietly.

"I am sorry I put you in such a state John, really. I did not enjoy watching you either."

"It's okay, you're here now and that's all that matters" John breathes out, then checking his watch

"I think it is time to wash the dye out now."

"Brilliant", enthusiastically Sherlock gave a small smile. Turning away from John, Sherlock bends back over in the shower, turning on the faucet letting the water flow over his head as the remaining dye washed out. Enjoying the water rush over him, Sherlock keeps his eyes closed, steam slowly fills the room.

"Is the excess all out" sputtered the detective.

Observing interestingly, moving closer, John looks down at Sherlock's hair, though his eyes cannot help but strain along the detective's neck and shoulders. Shaking his head, he quickly recovers.

"You need to rinse it just a bit longer; the instructions say that you need to wait until the water runs clear. Let me help you."

His fingers invaded Sherlock's mass, scrubbing slowly as more dye poured out, allowing Sherlock to enter s small state of content and calm. 'Yes this is rather enjoyable.'

Good, I think it's all out now", John grabs a towel and hands it to Sherlock looking away quickly trying to not give himself away.

"Thanks", Rubbing the towel through his head, round the back and chest, Sherlock continued, "Chop chop time?"

"I guess so" grabbing the scissors with not much confidence.

"Come on, come on." John looks over, finding a slightly bouncy Sherlock, smiling in excitement. 'I want to look good, especially for John.' 'I still would not change a thing about him' John believes, 'But what ever makes him happy.'

"Alright calm down. How short do you want it?"

"Hmm...What do you want? Raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, it's your hair", John says tiredly.

"I want you to choose John, pick what is best for me ok? Your preference, hm? How about like that actor fellow or something?"

"I suppose that's good..." sighs out John. Moving forward John tries to hold the scissors steadily as Sherlock closes his eyes in patience. As the cutting begins Sherlock's feels his hair fall freely about him, landing softly near his feet. After 10 minutes or so John steps back, carefully examine to be sure nothing was amiss.

"Okay I'm done", he concludes.

"Sherlock opens his eyes, looking down at the orangey curls on the floor, running his fingers around his scalp; he stands up and looks in the mirror.

"What do you think" slowly asks John.

A different face, but observing eyes stare back at him. Sherlock felt he was staring at a familiar stranger, an almost paradox in his opinion.

"Well done John. Very happy with the results."

"I'm glad you like it."

And there it was! John's eyes could not fool Sherlock as he saw a shift of shadows within. With this new confidence, Sherlock was feeling a little ambitious, maybe even a bit eager. Stepping toward John, Sherlock stretched his arms against the wall, palms holding him up causing John to back up into the corner.

"But what do you think, John Watson? His eyes flashed over John, who began to find his voice tighten, unsure what to do with himself. Where could he go?

"What are you doing?"

"You didn't answer my question, John."

"You didn't answer mine either."

"Another question to answer your question. Did you not want to see anyone else because you were waiting for someone to return?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Maybe someone who walked out of your life", asks a mysterious voice. 'God Sherlock what are you doing?' John found a hand holding his chin, forcing him to tilt his head up at the New Sherlock.

"You missed me didn't you…"

"Of course I missed you. Please Sherlock what is-"

"How much then" demanded New Sherlock.

"I-I-I don't...what are you talking about..." he managed to stutter out.

"You're stuttering, you never do that unless nervous" replied the serpent coolly. Of course I'm nervous, you are standing far too close to me."

New Sherlock uses the tip of his thumb to rub the bottom of John's quivering lip.

"Isn't this what you wanted though? You said _he_ and I looked alike and I saw you flustered at his...hm...handsomeness? Am I not correct?"

"Um... yeah, he is handsome..." John could feel a force field begin to envelop them, not knowing what to do. Conflicting thoughts and desires he was both curious at New Sherlock, yet for some reason terrified by this towering power.

"Well, don't I look like him now", Sherlock continued moving his face down closer to John's, who in turn pressed his own hand and arms against the wall, swallowing quickly.

"Ye-yeah, I suppose..."

"Good", Sherlock placed his forehead against John's, "Nervous?"

"Ye-yes."

For a moment Sherlock remains still as a small shiver runs through John. Analyzing his face again, he eyes dart all over John, causing him to almost feel exposed. Instead New Sherlock closes his eyes, releasing a sigh, allowing the consulting detective to return. 'He doesn't want to do it this way.'

"Ok then."

Wanting to escape the entrapping room Sherlock lets go of John as if his skin scalded his fingers, stepping away, picking up his shirt and re buttoning it in some frustration.

"Sorry", he mumbles, "Thinking illogically or something."

With his freedom John relaxes, still bewildered and confused by the situation.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Never mind John", refusing to look in John's direction, hiding his self anger. John sighed and began cleaning up the hair that had fallen on the bathroom floor and mulling through about what had just happened. He was very perplexed. He was sure that Sherlock had been about to kiss him, but now he wasn't sure what was going on. Meanwhile Sherlock gathered the cups, striding or nearly running to the sink to clean them out. Midway through he pauses, gripping the edges of the sink entering his Mind Palace, trying to think. 'Am I missing something? A clue I forgot? Something I overlooked?' As soon as the bathroom was clean John walked towards the sitting room looking for Sherlock. Although he hears John in the room behind him, Sherlock is stuck on the spot not wanting to ever leave it. In frustration he grips the sides of the sink harder for why couldn't he figure this out. Sherlock Holmes, the genius consulting detective! Stumped by one man's emotions and reactions? Walking into the kitchen John watches Sherlock stand at the sink.

"Sherlock-"

"What", he answers gruffly, cutting him off still staring into space.

"I-I think we should talk."

"About what", snapping on the 't'.

"You know exactly what. About what just happened."

"Extra dye must have soaked through my scalp and into my brain to muddle it up, sorry John." Annoyed.

"I don't understand why you keep saying that."

"Saying what?" He finally turns around, still thinking, growing angrier at himself.

"Apologizing!" John starts to get a bit frustrated himself*

"Because...because…" 'Words, Sherlock, words!' The anxiety was choking him, speeding up his heart attempting to find the correct answer.

"I was wrong with my deductions that's all, you know I hate being wrong."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Then forget it John." Sherlock presses his hand against his temple, headache. Quickly walking past John, he sits in his chair, closing his eyes trying to ease his mind and concentrate.

"Sherlock, talk to me. I can't understand what is going on if you don't talk to me."

Sherlock was never good with feelings, he either showed them too little or too much. He desires to say something spiteful to John, make him go away to leave him in solitude. Alone.

"Please, John I thought I was being clever but I was just acting foolish is all ok" Sherlock strains out.

"Why do you think you were being foolish?"

Truth or no truth? Quickly Sherlock created a dozen different phrases he knew would make John angry, pushing him away was Sherlock's only defense. But he fails.

"Well I thought...the new look would have satisfied you, made you feel better, but I assume not."

Realization strikes John as he watches the fretful creature in front him press his hands together in a thoughtful position, refusing to look in John's direction. Attempting to think of any sign he could have given Sherlock, to make him think this. He supposed there was a few things he'd done, but he couldn't think of anything he'd done right before Sherlock ran or more specifically jumped off.

"What makes you think it doesn't?"

"Because before… _that_ you didn't-" It finally occurred to him. He probably scared John, moving too fast catching him way too off guard. Sherlock searches for his voice.

"I thought you may have ...liked me more, like this...find me...attractive?"

"Sherlock, why would you think you'd have to change what you look like for me to find you attractive?"

John now has captured his full attention.

"So then...you do?"

John blushed.

"Yes of course I do, what made you think I didn't?"

"Because before...be- before..." 'You almost took a suicidal pill, blew up a bombed vest, and jumped off a building, but when in the presence of Doctor John Watson you can't talk? Stupid', Sherlock thought, punishing himself.

"Before it seemed you didn't want to..."

"Before, when?"

"Back there..." Sherlock manages to say while burying his hands in his face rubbing his eyes.

"How exactly did I seem like I didn't want to? I didn't mean to come off that way." Even though Sherlock had his eyes covered, John looked away from Sherlock's face. In response Sherlock peers above his fingers.

Because you looked so frightened maybe? You just did not seem...enthusiastic."

"I was just very nervous, that's what happens when someone you fancy has you pressed against a wall about to kiss you."

Sherlock's heart skips a beat.

"O…Wait …John...you..."

"Yes Sherlock, I fancy you." The words flow out quickly, pushing away the heavy boulder resting on John's chest, allowing him to finally breathe properly for the first time.

"...Me too John..." Sherlock replies, clearing his throat.

The silence between them is crushing. John looked at Sherlock, not knowing what to do next. Finally John picks up some courage.

"You know, it has nothing to do with the way you look… well... maybe a little with the way you look..."

As he rises from his seat Sherlock chuckles, walking slowly over to John.

"Want to try again?"

John's calm facade disappeared as Sherlock got closer and he was once again very nervous. 'Did I really fight in a war? So rubbish.'

"I-I-yes."

"Ok", utters the smirk.

Sherlock takes his left hand, pulling John into him, then wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"Just relax", he hisses out.

Relaxation slips away in John's attempt, yet his breathing was quickly becoming labored. Sherlock leans slightly back, looking up John again running his left hand through John's hair, carefully and still ever so carefully tilting his head back.

"Just...let ...go..."

Slowly leaning in, lightly kissing John's lips, Sherlock pulls slightly back grinning although John's hands we suddenly threaded through Sherlock's now short hair and he pulled his head forward. To steady himself Sherlock grips a little tighter and after another moment he pulls away.

** "**See, still alive."

John laughed, his breathing still recovering.

"Just barely."

Turning his head back to the bathroom, Sherlock tilts it back in that direction.

"More?"

"Oh god yes."

Sherlock grins, pulling John along, hand in hand as both eagerly stride together to their destination.


	2. Worry

**The Lost Stories of Holmes and Watson**

Worry

Lazily, Sherlock stretched his arms behind his head, flexing his toes and legs, eventually slouching back into his chair. On the laptop in front of him, he had been examining responses to John's blog and the most recent of cases. In Sherlock's opinion many of the comments seemed very boring, ordinary, and sometimes stupid. Although one question, relating to the kidnapped children, caught his interest even without any idea why. 'What's your favorite candy?' Reflecting back in his childhood he could only remember Mycroft the dominant sweet eater and then again maybe he had dabbled into it every now and again. After some more thought, Sherlock decided to find the answer by going to his best source.

_Do I eat candy? –SH_

_I haven't seen you eat any. –JW_

_I licked that mercury wrapper does that count? –SH_

_No. –JW_

Now more questions had been raised. If ever Sherlock consumed sweets he did not recall it and it might be less boring if he discovered his likes and dislikes…

_When you go out for milk next time please get me some candy. Also get my tea, I think it is ready. –SH_

_Why can't you get your own tea? –JW_

_No, reading over your blog-_

Sherlock paused midtext, realizing he had not seen John in last hour or so and today was his day off, meaning he would have been in the flat.

_Are you in Dublin again?-SH, he added on._

_No... I just got back this morning. –JW_

The shocked Sherlock quickly looked around the room, scanning for John, as it was often he forgot he was there in the room when concentrating on some topic, but there was no John in the room.

_Been up all night did I see you? Where are you now? –SH_

_I'm in my room, unpacking. –JW_

_Right. –SH_

No memory of John's arrival stuck out in his mind, yet it usually did for Sherlock felt more comfortable when he knew John was in the flat. Placing the book down, Sherlock lazily meandered into the kitchen, preparing his tea when he decides to take down an extra cup. 'He might want some, from after the journey and all.' Adding the final touches he climbed the stairs, cups in hand, asking loudly.

"What's in Dublin again?"

John glances over as Sherlock walks in and then returning his attention to the luggage that was on the bed.

"Just a friend who needed a favor."

"O..." Sherlock said with eyes narrow thinking over who it could have possibly been, then remembering he had tea in hand, "Here, brought some up for you too."

"Thanks", John answers, looking back to Sherlock to find himself smirking as he saw the detective's face contorted, similar to a suspicious child.

"Are you jealous?"

"Jealousy is silly", scoffs the child, proceeding to flop down onto the bed, next to the sprawled luggage. Relaxing his body against the inviting comforter Sherlock closes his eyes, attempting to keep composure so as to not reveal himself, except he begins to rub his eyes in tiredness and a slight headache. 'How long have I been up for...doesn't matter. Then again, I can only sleep when John's in the flat' pondering over the months he had been living with him. 'When did this happen?' For a minute or so John had ignored Sherlock, wanting to finish his unpacking when he has a good chance to glance over Sherlock with his medical eyes. His results made him worried.

"How long has it been since you've slept? You look like hell."

"When were you last here?"

"Three days ago. ...Are you saying that you haven't been to sleep for three days?"

"Hm, your hypothesis is probably most accurate", Sherlock sighed.

"You really can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not healthy." Mostly empty, John moves the suitcase to the floor and watches him with concern. In response he is answered by the shrugging shoulder.

"Eh. Unpacking is not finished", says Sherlock now peering at John with one eye open.

"I think it can wait. It's easier to unpack than to deal with you while you're sick."

Taken aback, almost insulted, Sherlock bolts up now energized.

"Who said I was sick? Just slightly tired is all. I used to do this when you were not living here, remember", Sherlock spits out defensively.

For a moment John thinks over Sherlock's habits. He was right, for that was his old sleeping pattern. Although he did agree, John nods and looks away.

"I'm just... worried about you. You work yourself too hard sometimes."

"Worry? Worry...worry…" an odd emotion, Sherlock looks down at the comforter in thought, glancing at John to find the doctor's concern for his patient. He wants to reassure him, a happy John is an easy to manage John, so Sherlock crawls near him onto the middle of the bed where the previous luggage had occupied. Sherlock begins.

"I worried about you after...The Event; you were not looking so well yourself, John."

In his time away following the faked suicide, Sherlock was able to contact Molly and his sweets obsessed brother in order to keep track of John.

"It was almost too much sometimes", John manages to respond quietly.

Even after some time Sherlock could capture the hurt in John's voice, it always stabs him and places a heavy force on him. Acting childish again, he lightly grabs and tugs on John's jumper sleeve.

"I was so sorry I had to do that. Tough for me too" Sherlock states, accompanied with a weak smile. John nods slowly, smiling, though still staring seriously.

"But you're here now. Alive."

"And you here too...also alive", ending with a chuckle.

"Will you sleep now?"

"No" smirking through his lie, "still too awake and now you have just returned, I want to stay up."

"Of course."

"But, if you need sleep I can leave." 'Please say no!'

"No..." John first hesitates, "I want you to stay."

"Good."

Sherlock releases his grip on John's sleeve, resting his head on the pillow, lying close to the edge of the bed to be near John. Staring off into space, Sherlock looked for a topic of discussion before he became tired again as John began to sort through his unpacked socks. Feebly Sherlock comes up with something.

"Mrs. Hudson hid my skull again today, found it in 45 minutes though." Luckily for him it is answered with a laugh.

"There would have been something wrong with you if you didn't."

"O god, yes..." Sherlock breathes out trailed by a sigh. Unfortunately the lids of his eyes begin to cave in and in his quiet moment Sherlock blurts out a question before he prevents himself.

"So who was the girl in Dublin? Did I meet her before?"

"I don't think so... she's an old friend from school."

"O..." raising his eyebrows in interest, then to be cheeky, "You ever had sex with her?"

"Just once, a long time ago."

"Ah!" Sherlock was not expecting that, making him unhappy a bit, so to quickly gather himself "Is she ok now?"

"Yeah, she's fine."

"Good...why was she in trouble?" Trying to sound interested. Sherlock's tone is noticed by John who looks over him, whose eyes remain closed.

"It was something complicated with her girlfriend. Nothing too exciting."

Opening his eyes and clearing his throat, Sherlock tries to hide his small victory and relief.

"I see, well glad it worked out then."

Knowing Sherlock too well, John saw through the disguise, smiling, he decides to take a chance and climbs onto the bed lying on his side to face Sherlock.

"Did anything happen while I was away?"

Finding a sudden John Watson in his bed Sherlock turns slightly pink and quickly searches for something to say. It was so difficult to say interesting to a John Watson when in such close proximity and the heart and pulse quicken with nerves.

"Well, um, Anderson being an idiot. Had to fix a case he muddled up."

"I bet he wasn't happy with that", John ends with a laugh.

"Course not. He is never happy."

Not wanting to look directly at John, he darted his eyes between the door and the ceiling, but in his anxiety his body stiffened too scared to even brush up against John. 'Wait did he move closer?' When Sherlock finally moves his eyes to John he finds him nodding slowly with his own eyes closed. Relaxing to John's calmness Sherlock moves on his side, smiling. 'He looks so content with his eyes closed, it is almost…adorable? Yes adorable might be the word. Or maybe even sensual?' In his movement John's dog tags had slipped out of shirt and mere curiosity drives Sherlock to carefully pick them up, reading them over.

"J. H. Watson."

"Yeah", John says opening his eyes to read Sherlock.

"Nothing..."

A moment or so passes between the two, each wanting to read the other. Each wanting to understand. Sherlock saw how much older John's eyes were; most likely due to his three year absence as John saw the deductions, but also the naive innocence. Sherlock saw trust, worry. John saw loneliness, confusion. Finally Sherlock tugs slightly at John's chain, wanting to sound sincere.

"I really am sorry about before, I promise not to leave you again."

He hears it, nodding, and covers Sherlock's hand with his own squeezing with honesty. At first Sherlock is surprised, surveying the hands giving in to a blissful smile.

"I know that you didn't have a choice."

"Thanks..."

"But if you do have to leave, let me know first. Please?" John smiles faintly before moving his hand away, finding a new home, resting on the Sherlock's side.

"If I leave I am taking you with me", states a determined Sherlock as he places his hand lightly on John's cheek. A quick smirk, John shuts his eyes.

"Good."

With some courage, Sherlock moves his face a little closer, noses almost touching each other.

"Sorry I got jealous before..."

"It's okay."

"I think I could go to sleep now John", he whispers, "Just one thing though."

"What's that?" John asks opening an eye. Leaning in Sherlock plants a light kiss on John's cheeks and in his surprised John feels absolutely right. It was something they had both been waiting for, probably far too long.

"I was hoping you'd do that."

"Mhmmm, Good Night John..." smiles Sherlock allowing his muscles to relax as he felt his tiredness pull him away from reality. John leans up pressing a kiss to Sherlock's forehead.

"I'll be here if you need me."

Even on the brink of the mysterious unconsciousness, Sherlock tries to say one more thing with much struggle.

"L- L- Lu…v...yo-… yo...

But John understands him and stays next to Sherlock for a while before moving to unpack the rest of his things.

"Hmmmm Jawwn..." Sherlock mumbles in his sleep.

On his completion John lies back down and drapes an arm over Sherlock before falling asleep as well.

"Jawn..." he hears Sherlock.

An hour or two goes by, both in their peaceful slumber, each holding the other. A noise catches Sherlock's ear, forcing him to become alert. Footsteps…slowly creeping up the stairs? Sherlock waits listening carefully though with nothing there he relaxes, but suddenly he feels a cold tip against his neck. His eyes open to find the insane smile whose mouth began to laugh quietly in evil delight.

"Hello Sherlock, please try not to scream this time hmmm."

Quickly Sherlock's eyes search for John, feeling his weight next to him. Though it is not until a cloud drifts away from the moon the sliver of light reveal John's eyes overpowered with terror. Sherlock looks again finding nothing in those eyes and as the sliver of light grows does he see the flow of blood flowing from John's neck. Shifting his head to look up at the intruder he lets out a pleading "No…" yet he is quickly shushed.

"Let's take this slow honey, more fun this way", the shadow coaxes as he drags the knife slowly against Sherlock's neck. Sherlock's screams, causing the phantom on top of him disappear and in his blinking Sherlock feels his cold sweat. Desperately he looks around the room, to his relief finding John unharmed beside him, yet to be sure he was still alive he shook his shoulder. At first nothing happens, creating a panic, but John slowly comes out of his sleep, in his grogginess. It is not until his eyes adjust does John find a wild looking Sherlock, enveloped in such great anxiety he himself is now on alert.

"What?"

"He's back, Moriarty here! He was in the room John! He's come back, o bloody hell!"

"Are... are you sure?"

"I thought..." looking around, in bewilderment, and then placing the tips of his fingers against John's neck. No wound. No blood. No Moriarty. Again another nightmare has plagued him. 'Will this burden ever go away?' Lying back down, Sherlock rubs his eyes at the onset of exhaustion.

"Sorry, another nightmare", Sherlock breathes out to which John pulls him close.

"It's okay, Sherlock. Go back to sleep."

"He had a knife, he was going to kill- no he had already finished with you John. The blood was everywhere and he was holding me down-" the tears welled in his eyes.

"I won't let him."

"Right soldier..."

In the protection of John's grasp Sherlock allows himself to relax again. John kisses Sherlock gently, running his hand through Sherlock's hair, and waits for him to fall asleep before getting up to be sure that Moriarty was just a nightmare. Five minutes pass with Sherlock deep in sleep and John decides it must have been a dream, abandoning the idea to check the room-

"Hey Johnny boy" a calm voice slashes through the air "Been awhile."

John quickly jumps out of Sherlock's grasp, taking on his fighting stance.

"Shhhhhhhh", the voice begins again, "don't be loud, don't wanna wake our precious do we?"

The voice is found from behind the door and as John peers into the darkened shadows, and John watches as the intruder slowly emerges.

"What are you doing here?" John growls, fists tightening, muscles tense ready to fight for everything. Moriarty just stares in amusement, chewing on his gum and smirking.

"Just checking in, something I like to do every once in awhile. I need you to take care of him better Johnny. No sleeping, no eating, and you were only gone three days."

"How... how are you even still alive?" John snaps. This man was the cause of everything. For his suffering, for Sherlock's suffering. All of the turmoil. Everything.

"Can't tell you. Ruins the fun of the game. Same reason why I need Sherly healthy, stress free."

Gritting his teeth, John looks around quickly for anything that he could possibly use to club the monster with.

"Get out!"

"Shhhhhh, what did I say? I don't want to wake him."

The intensity and rage reminded John that Sherlock was still behind him, so he steals a quick look at Sherlock, who remained asleep not stirring from the noise or John's movements. The nightmare had taken its toll.

"Please, like I said I was only checking in, especially with the happy couple reunited again. I was not sitting down for tea."

"You want him stress-free? It won't help that you're still alive."

"Eh", shrugging his shoulders,"Can't have everything and for god's sakes give him some sex or something, get endorphins going or something. Those hormones do wonderful things for the health and upkeep of one's body."

Slowly walking toward the John, Moriarty's grin unnaturally widens further. John prepares himself, except even with Moriarty in striking distance he finds himself frozen, afraid to touch him in the event something else happens.

"I want this game to last as long as possibly Johnny boy."

"You really need to leave. Now." John threatens.

"How rude. Just stick close to him, hm?"

Moriarty ends on wink and a snap of his gum, and with that he backs away for only a few steps.

"It would be easier if you were dead."

"Can't get rid of me easily", checking his watch, "Well it is late. Time for _my_ bedy by. Good night sweet Prince." Moriarty says drawing his eyes to Sherlock. Then to John.

"Goodnight Princess."

Having backed into the middle of the door frame, Moriarty spins dramatically, practically skipping down the stairs, leaving John in his rage and anguish. He listens for him to leave, slowly making his way to the door and locking it. Moriarty reaches the bottom of the staircase strolling out of 221 Baker into the cold street bellow with John watching from the window, witnessing him disappear into his realm of shadows. Now exhausted himself, John sits at the end of the bed, dropping his head in his hands. Turning around he analyzes Sherlock, still asleep despite all that had transpired. Gathering himself, John proceeds to pick himself up, checking the locked windows, the door again, and opening the drawer he pulls out the handgun. Though his body trembled, John sat down on the floor next the side of the bed, with finger on the trigger.

He waited.


	3. Responsibility

**The Lost Stories of Holmes and Watson**

Responsibility

Sherlock Holmes was so bored he was reading the comments on John's blog, those responding to their findings of their most recent case, a mute serial killer. "Language creates distortion of meaning in attempting to communicate meaning."

_Dull.-SH_, he texts.

Leaving his office, Doctor Watson's phone chirps and reading Sherlock's text he shakes his head. Most likely, John guessed, Sherlock was replying to some comment in a conversation that took place within his own mind.

_I never understand you. Heading to market soon. Need anything? –JW_, entering a cab, watching London roll by.

_Milk.-SH_

_Of course...O god what a day, screaming kids not wanting their shots and grouchy old people. What about you? -JW_

_John. I'm bored.-SH_

_Outside __store now. I will be home soon. Actually..._, in the adjacent store something catches his attention-

_Give me an extra few minutes. -JW_

_Why?-SH_

_Something else I need to buy. -JW_

_What do you need to buy?-SH_

Shutting down the computer, eyes furrowed in thought, attempting to analyze John's sudden request. Nothing else to do, he picks up his violin, and composes for awhile. Although his restlessness causes him to put it down quickly and he quickly fishes for his phone.

_John, come home. I'm bored.-SH_

_I'm surprised. Almost at flat. I found something to keep you busy when there are no cases. -JW_

Dissatisfied, Sherlock frowns and tosses the mobile on the desk. Sitting in his hair he rubs his palms together waiting anxiously. To his fortune he hears the door to 221 B open downstairs, John is fumbling with something.

"No. No , no...!"

"What? John! You're home!"

Invigorated with energy, Sherlock briskly walks over, and before reaching the stairs something runs around his feet.

"My God! Is that a dog?"

"Hallo Sherlock...", John says meekly, gathering up the spilled groceries. The puppy paws and Sherlock's trousers. Watching him seriously, Sherlock reaches down and picks up the wagging, panting beagle.

"John. You bought a dog."

"Yes I bought a puppy, a living- breathing- animal- _not_" John's tone captures Sherlock's attention, "not a possible experiment subject."

Although serious, John smiles again, looking up at him as Sherlock glares down.

"I'm not as immoral as you believe I am."

"Ha-ha just to be sure is all."

Finally gathering everything else, John makes his way to the top of the stairs scratching the pup, who is happily wagging its tail.

"He's quite... small."

"Of course he is, young. Also he was a rescue that the pet owner found, very energetic. Yep defiantly keep you busy."

Leaving Sherlock at the top the stairs, John walks through the living room to the kitchen, still instructing as he goes.

"He must be walked and cleaned. I guess we will both feed him, but still."

Walking slowly, Sherlock stands in the middle of the room,

"Does he- does he have a name?"

Setting the milk in the kitchen, then moving inside John finds Sherlock fixated on this puppy. He plops into the sofa.

"Hmmm...No, any idea? Preferences?

At first Sherlock stares into space, no doubt rummaging through the world's names, but very quickly he looks away with one suggestion.

"Hamish?"

Hearing the slight hesitation and his own name, John's eyes snap up to Sherlock, not looking directly at him. Instead he lowers his head, scratching the back of his neck.

"I was hoping to save that name for something else", mumbling under his breath.

"Save that name for what?"

"Hm sorry? Nope just thinking...Hamish...Hey! Let him down, he wants to run." Observing Hamish's squirming and whining, Sherlock's expression does not change.

"Yes, I'm aware", Sherlock says dryly, placing Hamish down, who proceeds to scamper round the room, snipping here and there.

"What were you saving the name for?"

John sighs, sliding on the floor and teasing Hamish when he comes near.

"I was going to save that name for ...the future. Possibly my son..." John says carefully.

"With... Sarah?" A tone of sadness in Sherlock's voice.

"Sarah...no no, I we are broke up a week ago, haven't you noticed I haven't been out evenings? Probably jealous of you since I am always working with you."

Ending with a chuckling and delighted watching Hamish enjoy his belly scratch, pawing the air. Sherlock wants answers, but needing to choose his words carefully as to not upset John, he squats down to awkwardly pat the dog.

"Then whose child?"

"Not sure yet", blushing, eyes dart at Sherlock for a second, he needs to escape this topic now. Luckily Hamish turns over, licking Sherlock's fingers and teething on them lightly.

"Hey I think he likes you."

"He's... cute."

As the words vibrated into the air, John begins to scoff, holding back his laughter as best as he can. Unsuccessfully.

"Did the World's Consulting Detective just say 'cute'?"

Hearing the laugh, Sherlock glares, releasing a snort leaving John in giggles as Hamish watches in interest, listening in interest.

"O if Mycroft were here, have a field day."

In a moment of silence, Sherlock is pulled back into his own investigation. He needs to hear the truth from John for he saw his expression when John mused about having a child while avoiding his deducing eyes.

"John... when you were talking about a son. Why were you looking at me like that?"

"Generally when you talk to people you face them...I was just answering you is all."

"No. You were looking at me oddly. You were blushing and acting... bashful."

"Bashful. It's just...It's nice to think of being a father someday", John had never considered if Sherlock would ever want children, except now the idea made him curious.

"...Sherlock..." carefully, "Do you want kids someday?"

"Depends on if I ever develop a relationship with someone."

"Of course, but I mean...the general idea. O goodness! A little, clever boy running around, hopefully not driving his professors crazy!"

His imagination shows him a Mini Sherlock running around, solving the neighborhood mysteries and annoying his peers. But there is this feeling that he wants to be beside this little boy, to help him, and…and-

"If I ever had a child, I would undoubtedly home school him or her. Couldn't have him... bullied, as one might put it, on account of his intellect", Sherlock quickly says, interrupting John's daydream.

"And leave them with no social interaction? You would make another sociopath. I guess...it's a balancing act as they say. A little bit of everything is needed to make a whole, like two halves right?"

"Yes... two halves." Sherlock muses on the words. The idea.

"Sure, school him or her with extra lessons when home but still enroll them so he or she might work with other children."

Finishing on that note John smiles at Sherlock, who smiles in return, hoping John didn't read into his 'two halves' comment. Hamish now chews eagerly on John's shoe, making him laugh and wrestle him with his hands. Next to him, Sherlock clears his throat.

"Well, I'm sure you'd be a fantastically ordinary father."

"And you would be an insane, genius one."

No matter how he attempted to hide it, John saw Sherlock's eye twinkle at the schooling idea and it is not until Hamish begins to tug at Sherlock's pants do the two finally break out of their trance.

"O hm. Might be hungry, let's go, it is dinner" suggests John.

"UGH. I don't want to leave the flat", Sherlock groans as he flops onto the sofa and placing Hamish on his stomach.

"I meant I was going to make it, can't leave him all alone yet, not fully trained. Keep an eye him eh?" John winks at Hamish.

Moving quickly into the kitchen, he hears Sherlock.

"Ah, so you trust the dog to keep an eye on me?"

"Yep."

Hamish yips in answer too.

"Ha-ha, he's clever."

"Humph. Shows how great of a father you'll be. You'll leave the seven-year-old in the care of the newborn. He's almost as clever as me. I like him."

"Good" John says simply, poking his head out of the kitchen.

An hour and a half later, John walks back into the living room finding Sherlock, for once, unmoved. His eyes are dreamily closed, yet lightly scratching Hamish's head. The scene in front of him fits well into the room, John really begins to take it in, wanting to preserve this memory, yet he is slightly startled-

"Thank you, John. For the dog", Sherlock murmurs quietly.

"Oh, of course, Sherlock. So whose hungry?"

"Let's eat here. The dog's asleep."

"But Sherlock, he has to eat now because when we eat is when he has to eat. Develop a sort of schedule right? Whooose hungry! Dinner, dinner!"

John's being overly ridiculous, lightly nudging Hamish awake, who yawns sleepily and jumps down lethargically. Inside the kitchen John places a newly purchased food bowl on the floor with some kibble and water.

"Spaghetti with fish fingers and custard for the humans. Red wine?" he asks when Sherlock finally enters.

"For the dog? Hardly healthy."

"Sherlock", John rolls his eyes.

"Yes, John? Ah, the suggestion of wine was for me, not the dog. Well, no thank you."

"More for me then."

"John? Do you really think I would be an alright parent?"

John plays out the scenario in his mind as the two settle into their chairs and meals. Hamish is eating loudly, clearly enjoying his own. Although he knows Sherlock has trouble reading people, when he pictures Sherlock with one of his own, it is completely different. He sees him meeting his son outside of school and eagerly asking him what he learned that day so he might correct his son's teachers. He sees him intimidate and investigate his daughter's recently acquired boyfriend, quizzing him and intimidating him with his harpoon. The images create a grin. Sherlock waits patiently.

"I do. Really, I mean I think having a kid around would help you...Help identify with emotions maybe? Train yourself at least or maybe with a child bring forth your paternal instincts."

"Humph" swallowing his pasta in a huff.

"Come on Sherlock. You would be a good Dad, a great one" ending on the bite of a fish finger.

"Really?"

"Yes...I really do."

Sincerely John looks Sherlock squarely in the eye who in turn blushes, crouching down to pat the Hamish. He finished his own kibble quickly, the smell of other food leaving him to beg bellow them. Meanwhile John sips thoughtfully from his glass, slowly draining his glass. A pressing question escapes him.

"Would you ever adopt Sherlock? Planet's already populated with too many people, lot of kids with no home."

"I probably would, mostly because the practicality of giving birth confuses me."

"Even as a doctor I probably would be too" John chuckles filling a second glass.

From his answer Sherlock ponders John's words. Entering the Mind Palace he observes John bandaging his daughter's scraped knee from when she fell off her bicycle, kissing her with reassurance to soften her tears. Further along he observes John play soccer with his son, each tripping over each other and collapsing into laughter. Sherlock so badly desires to be there with them.

"John... would you ever consider... adopting a child... with me?"

Silence slices in the air, so much so John could hear his heart stop and the flutter of butterfly wings invade his stomach. Yet he knows his answer.

"Yes...ya why not? ...But people would talk you know..."

"That would bother you, wouldn't it..." states a disappointed Sherlock.

"No, well...People say such horrible things is all. But if it's with you...I would endear it."

"So would you object to having... a family with me?"

John looks down, scratching his nail into the wood, thoughtfully. Their dinners finished almost long ago. Reflecting back to his imagination, he inserts Sherlock there with him by his side. It looks right.

"No...I...", breathing out sharply, "I look forward to it."

In nervousness the two almost bolt up at the same time, Sherlock moving first awkwardly sitting back on the couch with John.

"What about... having a relationship with me?"

Hamish follows along, almost tripping over himself, and finding them in his now favorite spot, he paws at them. Now a little relaxed, Sherlock takes the puppy into his lap, smiling and cooing at him.

Next to him the question buzzed in John's mind. Smirking at Sherlock's childishness and biting on his lower lip.

"You really think you want it?"

"Well...yes" answering with certainty.

Resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder, gazing up at him, John tells his answer.

"O god yes. Guess we have been delaying the inevitable...

"I suppose so" Sherlock says slightly uneasy as John nuzzles his head into Sherlock's neck.

"First let's practice with Hamish ok?"

"Yes. Let's."

"Hey Sherlock", reaching over and squeezing his hand, "We are going to be Dad's...it's sounds so incredibly right..."

"I know, doesn't it?" beginning to sound delighted and relieved.

"Ya it does." Pecking Sherlock's neck, giggling from his tipsiness. "Look at us being domestic!" He is answered with giggles.

"Oh lord, what've I gotten myself into?"

John places his hand on Sherlock's cheek, turning his head to face him.

"I dunno but you're with me right?"

**"**Right" stating in confidence.

**"**Two halves remember?" John murmurs giving Sherlock a light kiss finding his partner grinning.

**"T**wo halves, you and me."

**"**Ya…"

Sometime passes and Hamish begins to slow down again. The food is now making him drowsy, catching John's attention. His watch indicates the lateness of the night.

"We should let Hamish sleep, start with him tomorrow. Also which side of the bed would you prefer?" Wink,

**"**Hmmm... we can all sleep together tonight?"

**"**I don't want to bump Hamish off the bed if- I dunno, but I can set up some blankets for him on the floor" frowning at Sherlock

"He can't stay in the bed?" the child pouts.

**"**Ok, ok fine. Which room? Yours? Mine?"

"Yes! Sorry. Erm... yours."

Picking up the sleepily puppy, John heads for his room.

**"**Good. Hey, if we have a son, Arthur? Charlie? Martin? Benedict? All good names."

**"**I like Martin and Benedict..." Sherlock suggests, not having to think long.

"And a girl?"

"Hmm…Rose, Martha, Donna, or Amelia is good for me. You?"

"Brilliant."

Inside John settles Hamish softly on the bed, drawing the curtains and blinds. He begins to strip down, facing away from Sherlock.

**"**Which side of the bed? I'm fine either way, though I should warn you, be careful waking me up forcefully. Army reflexes and all...Kind of why me and Sarah broke up" John concludes sheepishly.

**"**I don't care. I'd like to be in between you and Hamish."

**"**Alright", turning around, down to his boxers, Sherlock changed into only pajama pants, "he would be like a little hot water bottle, how adorable."

Once John slips in bed, Sherlock leaps in next to him**, **hugging John and letting Hamish lick John's face. Laughing pervades the air.

**"**Oof, hey hey guys."

The two grin at each other and share more chuckles. When they finally calm down they lie still as Hamish takes his position lying on top of them.

"Sherlock."

"John."

"Hamish", they say at the same time as the pup picks up his head.

"This is good", breathes Sherlock.

"It is. Will this all finally make you sleep you think? You know, develop a normal sleeping pattern?"

"Maybe. Having two lovely, snuggly creatures in bed with me."

"Ya well..."

Sherlock cuddles further into John, cooing like an idiot.

"Don't tell me. 'Jawn'?"

"You're Jawn..."

"O Sherlock..." John rolls his eyes.

"Yes?"

"You are silly but lovely."


End file.
